All I've Ever Wanted
by Panabelle
Summary: All that matters to me right now, all that I know and all that I care about; all that is precious and all that I could ever give a damn about, is right here in my arms...


Disclaimer: :P thpp.  
  
A/N: I got the idea for this story while sitting in a pizza parlor. I'm quite proud of this thankyouverymuch, so all flames are welcome. Please review and tell me what you think of my little one shot, lemme know if you'd like to see more things like this out of me.  
  
Review por favor.  
  
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All I've Ever Wanted  
  
  
Chubby fingers grasp out of the corner of my eye. They clutch at a string tied to a blue balloon the same color as eyes and hair. I hear the whimpering start, hear the sniffle and the little gasp that is the customary announcement of a coming stormfront.  
  
The string bobs just out of reach of the little girl's pudgy fingers. Her father doesn't notice-if he ever did, he'd pretend not to. Her brother is off with mine, both locked in a heated debate over what song is meant for them in the jukebox. Everyone else is locked in conversation, or simply ignorant of the plight of the young blue-haired child.  
  
"Here you go, Bra," I whisper, snagging the string and dangling it before huge eyes. Two blooms of sapphire-lined-onyx turn inwards to focus on the string, making the little girl go cross-eyed. Her little, chubby hands grasp at the string, clutching it so tightly her knuckles flex, in fear her beloved balloon with soon try to once again escape. She erupts into giggles and bubbly baby babble, her hands jerking the poor balloon every which way as she throws her arms around.  
  
Bulma looks back at the sudden outburst from her little girl, smiling as she sees her happy daughter and the balloon caught in the midst of Bra's tyranny. She is unaware that I have just saved us and the restaurant from flash flood and the universe's youngest super saiyan ever.  
  
The sound of grunts and squeaking sneakers draw my attention to the jukebox, where Trunks and my little brother have come to blows rather than terms on whether to play "Can't Touch This" or "Like a Virgin".  
  
However, a playful and surprisingly painful jab in my side draws my attention to she who the occasion is for.  
  
Videl.  
  
My girlfriend-heh, sorry. My wife. I'm still getting used to this concept. It's hard to believe that she and I are married, I doubt I'll ever get used to waking up to those angel eyes every morning, knowing that those arms will only go around me. I'd give up fighting to be near her every morning, give it up if only to assure her that I will always be there, that I won't ever pull the constant-but-necessary disappearing act my father pulled on me and my mother for almost as long as I can remember.  
  
She smirks at me, pulling playfully on my arm. I turn around and drape my arm across the back of her chair, pressing a clumsy kiss just below her earlobe, knowing that my face is probably just as red as the table cloth. I love her to pieces, but public displays of affection are things that my family has never had, nor ever will...with the possible exception of Goten-the ~Lady's~ Man.  
  
"Happy birthday, Sweetie," I purr quietly, only to have her stick a tiny hand in the center of my chest and push me away. She's not into the PDA's either. I guess that's why she and I hit it off. Both of us fighters, both of us smart enough to skip class-her to save the city, me to "use the toilet". I don't know. I never will. Whenever I think back on the first few times she and I shared, the first hellos, the first conversations, the first time she kicked my ass, or that I managed to pin her in a skirmish, those times are completely alien. I remember them perfectly, but everything's fuzzy and blurred not only by hindsight, but by the terror I'd had then of finding out that this angel didn't return my feelings.  
  
She shakes her head, getting to her feet, her eyes alive and bright.  
  
I know that light.  
  
I ~like~ that light.  
  
Even if it makes my face red to think of it.  
  
Or even to-  
  
I quickly shake my head to keep off the blush as she grabs my shirt collar and drags me outside towards home.  
  
"'Bye everybody!" I yell innocently as we leave, suddenly all too aware that my father's naivety has worn off on me, and that if she's thinking what I think-I hope-she's thinking about, the entire restaurant now knows.  
  
Out on the street, Videl yanks me around, stopping me before I can call for Nimbus, and looping an arm through my own, snuggling close to my side as we walk down the street, her head on my arm, eyes peering up at me through gorgeous midnight locks of hair.  
  
I stuff my hands into my pockets, utterly amazed at how in love with her I am.  
  
"What's gotten into you, Videl," I ask her as we cruise towards the park, from where I can safely call Nimbus.  
  
"You," she replies innocently, her eyes locked on my face. I pause as our feet cross the green grass, feeling her gaze studying the line of my jaw, or whatever else of my face she deems worthy enough to look at.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
She giggles in a way I have never known her to giggle.  
  
Hell, I never knew she ~could~ giggle!, this little tomboy that has won my heart and literally beaten me into submission as her husband, mate, and willing-slave for life. Not that I don't get paid...in food, love, and...ahem...yeah.  
  
My face is turning red again.  
  
"Videl? Seriously, you aren't-what's going on? What haven't you told me? You aren't acting like...well...like ~you~. It's like you're someone else."  
  
She giggles again, standing up on tiptoe and giving me a sweet kiss that I honestly doubt I'll ever forget, or ever taste again. Her hand sweeps back through my hair, massaging the back of my neck...here I go, being her little saiya-man slave again...half saiyan, half man, all slave. That's me.  
  
She pulls back before I can even get my arms around her. Her finger press against my lips and she snuggles into my chest. I look down at her, hands still shoved deep in my pockets.  
  
"Alright, who are you and what have you done with my wife," I demand. She tries to pull away to "storm off", but I hold her tight before she can. "I'm not letting go until you tell me," I murmur, lost in her eyes.  
  
She blushes, tilting back her head and resting her chin on my chest, eyes peering up into mine as I flatten my own chin to my chest and stare down into hers.  
  
"You really want to be a dad, don't you," she tells me, her voice small, almost knowing.  
  
Snorting quietly, I nod. "I wouldn't mind it...I miss having someone to look after who doesn't mind taking orders." She giggles again, shrugging deeper into my embrace, her hands bunching my shirt into her small and relaxed fists.  
  
"I kinda got that impression watching you take care of Bra whenever Bulma was socializing."  
  
I shrug, suddenly curious as to why she's so eager about this topic all of a sudden. We both agreed a while ago that we'd hold off on children until our marriage wasn't such a popular topic in Satan City, until I had secured a well-paying job and we had a small home of our own, not a half-finished home right next to my mother's.  
  
"Why are you asking me this, Videl, huh? I thought-"  
  
She hooks her arms behind my neck, pulls herself up to whisper in my ear.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~  
  
I stare down at her as she lowers herself back to the ground. I've been quiet quite a while, I guess; by the quiet terror in her eyes I think my silence is starting to worry her.  
  
"Gohan, we...I know we didn't plan...that we weren't going to-~ah~!"  
  
She shrieks as I swing her around, scooping her off the ground, crushing her against me with almost too much strength, catching her in a kiss that I guess neither of us was ever aware that I knew how to give. I break for air, and watch with a laugh as she hangs limply in my arms, eyes big and shining, face flushed, gulping in deep breaths of air.  
  
The second she recovers, I scoop her up again, swinging her around in more circles, pulling her completely off the ground, spinning both of us until I fall down with dizziness and land on my posterior, she landing next to me, eyes fuzzy from the ride.  
  
She looks at me and laughs, throwing herself against my chest again. I pull her close, nuzzling the top of her head with my cheek, hiding my hand against her belly as she draws her knees up and leans them over my own as I sit almost-cross-legged almost-crouching next to her.  
  
Moonlight from the full moon rains down on us, and seems to be shining just for me, just for her. The stars have never been so bright, the sky has never been so clear.  
  
I'm dimly aware that the others are passing by the park, dimly aware that Vegeta's pretending not to notice us, that my mother and my father-in-law are exchanging all-too-knowing looks, he not happy, she ecstatic. I don't care that Goten and Trunks are mocking us, pretending to waltz around the paved path, suppressing hysterical laughter, or that Bulma is talking excitedly about another party and that Piccolo is standing behind them all shaking his head and pretending to remain oblivious to us, despite the smirk that gives his awareness away.  
  
All that matters to me right now, all that I know and all that I care about; all that is precious and all that I could ever give a damn about, is right here in my arms: in my arms and under my hand; my wife, and the little baby that will soon be my son, my daughter. The only thing that matters is this, my family, she who will only hold me, and this unborn little one that is of my blood, and her flesh.  
  
To hell with everyone else.  
  
Right now this is all that matters.  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`  
  
Crying wakes me out of peaceful slumber.  
  
Videl is trying to struggle out of the mess of sheets we've made, her eyes half-lidded, tired and exhausted. Gently, I pull her back against the mattress, kissing her forehead as I slip out of bed to tend to our daughter.  
  
Daughter.  
  
That concept is just as odd, confusing, and alien as "wife". Only "wife" is easier to accept. "Daughter" will forever baffle me. From what I can tell of Krillin's attempt at this conquest, the concept of "daughter" will only get ~more~ confusing and ~more~ alien as time passes.  
  
I open the window as I pass, hiking up my pajama bottoms, cursing the weather, insanely and uselessly worried that this oppressive heat will only smother my daughter while I sleep.  
  
I tiptoe into her room, an action quite useless when she's crying and obviously wide awake. Just the same, she knows I here. I'll never be able to hide from her; she already knows how to track ki.  
  
Her cries slack off as I near her crib, and as I reach down into it, she giggles happily, waving chubby arms in the air, her stubby and pudgy little fingers, grasping blindly for my hand. Her bright blue-black eyes are the color of ink, much like her mothers'. She has a scraggly moptop of black hair on top of her head, hair that is currently sticking up in about seventy directions, something I'm honestly almost afraid about. I can only hope that as her hair grows it will settle down and not be so wild and rugged-on a guy it's one thing, on a girl, it's another.  
  
I extend my fingers towards her as I lean an arm onto her crib to support myself with. Her inanely tiny hand clasps my index finger as soon as she can reach it, and I can't help but smile down at her.  
  
"Hey Panny," I whisper, swinging my hand about, laughing quietly as she giggles just as noiselessly and waves her arm around. "Lonely again?" She burbles softly, sticking out her little tongue and crossing her eyes just to make Daddy laugh.  
  
It's funny...I always refer to myself in the third person now whenever she's happy like this. I don't remember my own father doing it that much, and I know my mother, who was always to straight-forward and paranoid about my education, never did, aside from whenever Dad or I almost got me killed, or I was gone for exceptionally long periods of time with Dad or Piccolo. And yet, here I am, babying my little girl with senseless father babble.  
  
Panny yanks on my finger, pulling it and me forward so that she can gnaw on it, but I don't let her. She's gotten her teeth, and I've already found out the hard way that she knows how to use them. I free my finger much to her dismay and hold the end of it between her tiny eyes, jiggling it subtly, watching her go cross-eyed before I gently tap the bridge of her nose and pull my arm up to fold with the other on the railing and lean against.  
  
"You never will get tired of her, will you?"  
  
I look back at Videl as she sneaks up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, setting her chin on my shoulder, peering over it and down at this little precious one of my blood and her flesh.  
  
"I don't think I ever will get used to her. Just to know that she's mine- ~ours~-is mindboggling. And I know that just as soon as I get the hang to this fathering stuff she'll be getting married, and I'll have to give her to someone else to take care of."  
  
Videl laughs quietly, turning her mouth into the back of my shoulder.  
  
"Well, don't worry too much about that. She won't leave completely, she won't abandon you as much as I did my own father."  
  
"I plan to be around for her more then our fathers were for either of us. I know what it's like to grow up without one...Dad always had a good reason to leave like he did and when he did, but I'd prefer not to put her through that."  
  
"I would hope not, she's definitely a Daddy's girl."  
  
"~Bra~, is a Daddy's girl, Videl," I tell her.  
  
"But Panny will be one too, only differently. While Bra has Vegeta wrapped around her little finger just like her mother does, I think Pan will look up to you and love you unconditionally, never letting you forget who your daughter is."  
  
I laugh, not caring what kind of Daddy's girl she is, she ~is~ Daddy's girl.  
  
"How are you so sure? I mean, she can barely stand up on her own, how are you so sure that-"  
  
"I have this theory that children will bond with the parent they look most like. You look like both your mother and your father, you're particularly close to both of them. I look like my mother. Only I never knew her very well. But I don't take after my father."  
  
"Yeah, you know the difference between a harmless light show and a life-threatening situation." I cringe with a laugh as she jabs her fist into the square of my back. Panny laughs with me.  
  
"Knock it off or you're sleeping outside."  
  
I laugh again.  
  
"What about Trunks and Bra? Bra is a miniature clone of Bulma and yet does everything short of exploit Vegeta. Trunks has Bulma's hair alright, but has his father's face. And he's the biggest momma's boy this side of Mars."  
  
"They don't count," Videl laughs. She nuzzles against my back, snuggling closer despite the heat. I reach back down to stroke my daughter's cheek.  
  
"I still don't understand..."  
  
"Pan looks more like you then me. She'll be a Daddy's girl through and through, but I get the feeling that she's going to be a really big tomboy."  
  
I laugh. Panny closes her eyes as she opens her jaw as far as it will go and yawns. Her eyes open back up, starry and sleepy in the moonlight streaming through the window.  
  
"She has your eyes."  
  
"Really?"  
  
I nod. "And you have no idea how happy that makes me."  
  
Videl smiles into my shoulder. I watch as Panny closes her gorgeous little eyes and turns towards the window and into slumber, my finger sliding across the end of her nose as she turns. I quietly pull my hand away and pull my wife around in front of me and hold her close, both of us looking down upon this little angel we created.  
  
"I still can't believe she's ours," Videl murmurs, resting her cheek against my chest. I smile, unable to resist the urge to scoop my daughter into my arms.  
  
Holding my dark haired wife against me with one arm, and my dark haired daughter in the other, I know now that I need to fight. As much as I would love to stop fighting to be here and assure these two that I will ~always~ be here, I have to fight. To keep things better for my wife, to assure a future for my daughter.  
  
And I think that's why Dad fed off of fighting like he did. He needed to, to protect mom, to protect me while I was still small enough to need protection. And I know now that I am his son, I am the same way. As much as I would love to stay with my wife and daughter, give Videl a day off every now and then, take her out when time allows; carry my daughter to bed and tuck her in, read her a story every night, I know I won't always have that option. Like my father, I am destined to die fighting for those I love.  
  
But if that means that Pan can go to her senior prom and not worry about being considered promtail, if that means that Videl can go shopping without her beeper going off (heh, like it will...call me overprotective, but I hid that thing in the back of our closet. Tidy as we are, she'll never see that thing for a million years), I don't care.  
  
All I do and will ever care about, is this. My wife, my daughter, here with me. Even when we're old and she's older, it will always be this. Always be us.  
  
They are all I have ever wanted out of life, all that I've ever wanted and even more.  
  
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A/N: So what did you think? You like? You hate? You gonna review and let me know? Yes, I think you are. I hope. I think you should.  
  
Anyways, I just love Gohan. But then I'm a daddy's girl, so nevermind. ;P  
  
And just to let all those reading Petrified Tears know, I haven't given up. Chapters should be coming soon.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



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